


Never Speak of This

by anotherjadedwriter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Birthday Sex, Collars, Inter-Species Sex, M/M, Panties, Xenobiology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherjadedwriter/pseuds/anotherjadedwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is degrading. This is stupid. He's lucky you pity him. Asshole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Speak of This

DV’s birthday-the human equivalent of a wriggling day-has been looming for the past few weeks, and he won’t shut up about it. He already knows JN and RS are going to throw him a surprise party with his strange ability to see through anyone else’s facade, so he’s been dropping hints about what he’d like from you.

Well, ‘dropping hints’ is a sort of gentle way of putting it. Its closer to him just stating random sexual acts he’d be ‘way fuckin jazzed, like a goddamn sax player or some shit’ to see/receive.

He’d even mentioned that seeing you use your bulge on yourself would be hot, and you’d slapped him before you could stop yourself. Then you had to awkwardly explain to him that that sort of thing is considered extremely taboo where you’re from, and that it would probably be uncomfortable anyway.

But, you couldn’t do nothing. He’s your matesprit, even if he’s stupid.

That’s what lead you to taking a long shower and washing yourself more carefully than usual, drying off and putting on the bright red panties you’d bought at the mall, and then sitting on the couch in the living room to wait for him to get home.

"This is so fucking degrading. He better appreciate it." You hiss, your thighs pressing hard together and you feel stupid. You don’t look ‘hot’, you look underfed and distinctly not-attractive in garishly red underwear not meant to cover a sheathe. You’re going to change, you have to, you look stupid. You’ll just, oh, give him a new game or something.

Just as you stand, you hear his keys at the door and freeze, fuck you forgot the collar. Your psiioniics reach out and drag it through the apartment and to you, you nearly choke yourself putting it on too fast. He steps in just as you go back to looking and feeling stupid on the couch.

"Oh." He starts, tucking his phone into his pocket. "Shit, happy birthday to Mr. Strider, huh?"

Your mouth spits the words before you can stop yourself. “Never speak of this. I swear to your god, Strider, I will disassemble every piece of technology you even hope to touch, let alone use, and you’ll be thrown back to the cretaceous period with the power of my rage if you even think about whispering a single little detail to one of your—”

He’s kissing you to shut you up, but you let his tongue into your mouth anyway, humming in approval as he nips at your bottom lip gently. His fingers trail over your sides, pausing to tease your grubscars, then just staying there and making you chirp and purr and twitch. He always acts like he has all the time in the world.

Which, you guess, he does.

His hands drift slowly down your sides, to your hips, then just trace the hem of those red panties. One fingertip moves over the waist, to the ugly concave of your abdomen, the other lifting your thigh, sliding along under it to your knee and pulling you closer.

His lips brush your ear when he speaks. “Nah, I won’t tell anyone. God, you’re fuckin’ sexy.”

It sounds like a line from a shitty pailing vid-not that you watch those without his prompting-but you flush, chirp again and tangle your hand in his hair, the other pushing under his shirt at his back. He kisses you again and moves until you can both kind of fall back so he’s on top of you. He doesn’t stop talking, unsurprisingly, but you just let him talk. This is his present, anyway.

"You’re so hot, Sollux, shit, didn’t think you’d actually do this. Even the collar, god.." He mumbles, between biting and sucking at your ear and making you moan, a wet spot spreading on your panties.

Still, you can’t let him be the only one talking when he obviously needs to get his ocular orbs checked. “H-hardly. Can’t even see why you’d want this at all..”

You’re pretty sure he actually growls at that, and you find yourself baring your throat, your breath coming fast. “You must be blind, then.”

Then you don’t really talk at all for a few minutes, because he’s kissing you and rubbing his palm against your sheathe through your panties, and you can hardly moan with how he’s sucking on your tongue. He breaks away and you gasp, mewling, as your bulges push out and slip against the silky red fabric covering them. His lips-well, mostly his teeth-move down your neck, leaving messy yellow, blotchy bruises where they pause.

He stops at your collar and, leaning back to sit on his knees, loops a finger through the metal ring where, you’re almost positive, he’s planning on hooking a lead next time you use it. (If there is a next time, you mean, you’re not planning for it, not at all.) He pulls until you sit mostly up, then pulls your hand to the front of his pants, leaning in to speak next to your ear.

"Can’t wait to make you scream my name."

With that, he releases your collar and lets you fall back, a sly grin on his face. You look down at him as he moves a little back on his knees, then bends over, hitches your knees over his shoulders, and starts doing his best to eat your nook through the lingerie.

Your back arches sharply, your shoulders and elbows and horns digging into the sofa while he slurps happily at the yellow leaking from your bulges and nook. Your claws scrabble for a hold as he lifts your lower half up until you’re nearly on your head, eventually settling on the cushion and tearing the green pleather.

"DV, DV fuck fuck." You hiss, your hips trying to buck while he holds them still. "DV, oh shit, I-I, nnh!"

He pulls away and you whine, shivering when he licks his lips pointedly. “What’s wrong? Need something?”

You thrash a little, kicking your legs. “Just fuck me, god dammit, fucking fuck me Strider, hurry up!”

He chuckles and drops you, standing. You make an annoyed grunt but don’t say anything as he stands and shimmies his pants down. It’s all you can do to not lick your lips at his erection, but you can’t keep the strangled whine from slipping out.

"Hands and knees." He orders, stroking himself languidly.

You do as he says, lifting your ass and spreading your knees. As you get into position and pull a pillow under your chin, he tears open a condom and slips it on, then slaps your ass. Not so much that it really stings at all, but it does make a pretty loud noise.

"By the time I’m done with you, the neighbors are gonna be making noise complaints."

"Not hot." You quip, wiggling your hips so he’ll get on with it.

He pulls the red lace to the side and rubs the head of his cock against your nook’s lips slowly. “Fair, but it’s true.”

You don’t say anything to that, just lift your hips that little bit more, to where he’s pushing in juuuuuuuuuuuust a bit, and he snaps his hips forward with a groan. You keen and let your head fall forward as he starts a rough rhythm, hands on your hips and your skin slapping his.

After a few seconds, he grabs the collar at the back of your neck and yanks you up by it, leaning over you to speak. “Make more noise, Sollux, let them know who owns you.”

Normally, you’d probably be annoyed that he’s ordering you, and that he’s doing that whole possessive thing you only expect from highbloods, but it’s hot when you’re in a collar and he’s balls-deep in your nook like he is, it feels different, you feel different.

You feel owned. But moreso, you feel wanted. He wants you, he owns you, and you moan louder, scream his name with each thrust that hits that weird little bundle of nerves inside you that makes you scream anyway.

"Dave, Dave Dave I’m gonna, fuck, I’m coming, oh god, don’t stop." You whine, and he stops completely inside you, rolling his hips against your ass.

He kisses your shoulder. “Come on, don’t make it so short?”

You chuckle. “Did you forget the whole duality thing, dipstick? Don’t. Stop.” You growl, grinding back against him.

He groans and nods against your back, starting the same rhythm over again. The lingerie rubs against your bulges deliciously, and in no time you spill over the couch and yourself. He grinds into you for a second, then stills. Under him, you gasp for breath, your cheeks hot and your heartbeat loud in your ears. After a few minutes of this, with him kissing your cheek and neck, his hand stroking your still-twitching abdomen, you nod.

"Okay. I’m okay." 

Another kiss to your shoulder and he starts moving, considerably slower and more gentle, which you’re thankful for. Your nook is over-stimulated, but it feels great, and soon enough your bulges are lashing against your abdomen again. You can’t see yourself lasting long, but his breaths are getting high and hard and fast, so he’s getting close anyway.

Your tongue is too heavy to moan like you had been, but you manage to chirp and chitter and make the general noises he likes for some reason, clamping your nook on him. Your thighs are trembling and if you weren't already pressing your face into the pillow your arms would have given out, you feel loose. Even him stroking your bulges in your hand feels sort of disconnected, but you feel when you come, you swear you can feel it in the ends of your hair and claws, even though only a tiny dribble of material drips onto the couch.

He pulls himself out and you hear the slick sounds of him stroking himself to completion behind you. Before you even think about it, you’re speaking.

"Come on, DV, mm, give it to me. Come for me, come on.." You purr, wiggling your hips where you’re sure he can see your nook. You can feel your heartbeat in it, if you hadn’t run out of material you’d have begged him to keep going.

He groans again as he comes. “Shit, fuck! Fuck, Sollux.”

You can feel the hot of it land on your back and ass, and it feels dirty and gross and makes your bulges twitch defiantly.

Then, you spend a few minutes just panting for breath, and he leaves the room. You almost complain, but he brings a damp cloth with him and wipes you off, peeling the probably-ruined panties off of you.

"Best birthday." He says, smirking.

"Shut up and take me to bed." You reply, also smirking.

Well, it could have been worse.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you get for the super rich playboy with too much time on his hands? Nothing, fuck them. [pun combox2!]  
> if you liked this, consider supporting me here: https://ko-fi.com/A781PZJ


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